I have for some time realized I need to make changes to my dietary habits. It is not going to work to tell Vibble to eat a healthy diet while I model opposite behavior. This morning it became clear the time to make those changes is now. As Vibble ate bananas and zucchini bread in her doorway jumper, she looked up to the counter and saw my own breakfast—red velvet cake—and, no lie, she narrowed her eyes and turned her lips down in a show of contempt. Telepathically, she said, “I know what that IS, Bob.” This was a threat. If I didn’t cease this classist behavior, she would do what she had done last night in the restaurant where the cake had originally come from: Shriek at a volume that would send her father into such a state of anxiety he would not sleep for the rest of the night, and she would do this without stopping until she too was given cake. Yeah, I stopped eating my “breakfast” mid-bite.

She calls this “Eh-EH? Mmm-MMM?”

Mostly I think she enjoyed living the stereotypical artist’s lifestyle—a chaotic studio with materials, canvas, and crumpled idea sketches scattered everywhere; paint on her skin and clothes; and, of course, a mercurial creative’s temperament.

“Disciples be damned. It’s not interesting. It’s only the masters that matter. Those who create.” —Picasso

The doctor said, “First time parents? Yeah. Babies get fevers. You will learn.”

Fine, I know. Yeah, yeah. A fever of 100 may not be cause for walking your kid to the E.R. at 3:30 in the morning when you are “seasoned,” but the reality was this: I was not going to sleep until some medical professional told me the flaming cheeks of my little one weren’t reason enough to call President Obama and put a halt to all of America until she was happy again.

Besides, including travel time, we spent only an hour and a half getting advice, with some pokes and prods thrown into the bargain. Every time I go to the pediatrician? Much, much longer than that. I figure we saved ourselves all kinds of time, including the hours I would have spent from here until I could get in to see the pediatrician just fretting and nagging Steve about maybe-we-should-do-this and maybe-we-should-do-that, hours I can now use to sleep.

Poor Vibble. She is so sad and hot. At least now she is properly medicated. And confirmed free of any fever-causing terminal illness.

48 hours of no one needing anything from me
A bed to myself
Leaving my shaving razor on the side of the bathtub without worrying about it
Midday cocktails
Spa treatments
48 hours of not only not having to clean constantly, but not having to clean AT ALL
A little roulette, a little slots
Wearing high heels and “pretty clothes”
Breakfast buffet
Hours and hours lounging by the pool
Room service chocolate cake at 11 p.m.
Uninterrupted time to chat with the girls
Getting to read a little, and not “Where’s Nemo” or Dr. Seuss
Long showers, with leg-shaving time and everything
The restaurant in the Bellagio that serves only dessert
Leisurely shopping in uncrowded stores
People expressing their thoughts and desires in words other than “Eh. EH!!!!!”
No litter-boxes
Getting to sit down and eat my food without having to grab bites in between cutting up and serving someone else’s food
Kelly time—it does me good

The weather was gorgeous for us, sunny and breezy, hot in the middle of the day and warm in the evening. Time by myself is such a precious thing, nothing can compare to it … so I bailed on the people we were with both nights around ten or so. They went out, I enjoyed time in a room ALONE.

It would have been perfect had I not had this awful, gut-wrenching feeling in my insides all weekend. Every time I saw a baby or toddler I felt for a second like the wind got knocked out of me. Oh, little ball and chain, I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!

A New Video!

(I don’t want my dad’s co-workers to have to hear the same audio over and over for TOO long.)

Vibble and I spent the morning running a couple of errands. This included trips to TJ Maxx and Target, where the routine goes like this: We arrive, and I put her in the seat of the cart. She tolerates this for up to ten minutes before escaping her seat-belt and attempting to dive to her death. Then I put her in the cart part. People give me dirty looks throughout the store for being such a bad mother as to allow my precious little baby to ride in this DANGEROUS, DANGEROUS way. But it is the only way she will remain carted, and an uncarted toddler in a giant department store usually ends with a lawsuit of some kind. Anyway, Violet loves to be in the cart part, because from there she can do her favorite thing: Chuck items out of a container! Throughout the store, she tosses one thing after another from the cart onto the floor. I keep an eye on this and re-cart my items as best I can. Especially since some of these items already belong to me, like my sunglasses, and my purse.

Her second favorite activity is to ADD TO the cart. If I get too close to any rack or shelf, she attempts to sneak additional items onto our purchase. Inevitably, I get to the checkout and have to do inventory: “Oh, sorry, I don’t actually want this. Or this. Or THIS Oh crap where are the diaper wipes damn it I need those!”

After our shopping trips, we met Stevel and Hae-Jeon for lunch. Soon we will be charged at buffets for Violet, because she now eats A LOT of food.

Before the shopping, we dropped off my mom and stepfather at the airport. They’d been here since Friday, a really nice visit. Vibble took a lot of sunny walks with Grandma and Papa, and she gave them lots of kisses. She does this thing now where she gets her face close to yours and says, “Mmmmm …” and you’re supposed to meet her lips with your own, whereupon she finishes the sound-effect: “… mmMAH!” Irresistible. Of course, she does this EVERY TIME she gets in trouble.

She still does not like to get in trouble. Now she gets on all fours and bangs her head on the floor while shrieking. It’s just lovely.

More and more, she takes a few steps here and there, and she let my mom walk her around by holding her two hands. She was SO PLEASED with herself, but she still reverts to crawling most of the time. This thing people keep telling us? How one day they are just walking and that’s it and it’s amazing and everything changes? Not so much with this one. More like, one day she is walking some, and then for a few days she just crawls. Then she walks some. Then she crawls. People have been saying for two months, “Oh, she is going to walk ANY DAY.” Same with talking. But she is doing it on HER schedule, in HER time, and she will not flip a switch.

She wants to be “read to” a lot now. Her definition of reading involves shoving a book in my face while whining very, very loudly until I open it and begin talking. There is NO TIME to read the words, she is not patient enough for that, as demonstrated by the screams and whining and grabs for the book so she can shove it at my face again. “Hurry up, Bob!” So we blaze through the book, and when I get to the last page and say, “The end,” she has a minor meltdown and grabs the book and shoves it corner-first into my eye. This means, “Again! Again! NOW.” I have “read” the Finding Nemo book up to 11 times in an evening this way. That’s her favorite book, I think, after the ones with the musical buttons on the side, which she likes to push in quick succession so each song gets a semi-second start before being cut off by the next one. I guess you could call it a medley?

OK, a few new photos.

Ingrid is here visiting, and we’ve been enjoying her company a lot. Yesterday we joined Jeremy and Melissa on their adventure to the Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve. Despite rumors of the poppy fields being in full bloom, alas, they were not. And it was hella windy, so we didn’t stay too long at the park. But we had a scenic drive there and back, and Violet enjoyed what poppies there were.

Last night Stevel and Ingrid played serious Rock Band. Following is a short (one-minute) video of Violet holding the microphone and demonstrating her compulsion to DANCE:

Kid Rockin’ Out

OK, I got that previous video working, but it’s out of date now, anyway, so here is a new one, including some footage from today. The HD versions are so much better than these YouTube ones, so visit us for the better movie experience, (followed by a question-and-answer session with the star herself!) (To avoid falsely advertising said session, it should be noted she only shakes her head no right now when asked any question; this head-shaking means either yes or no.)

Oh, P.S. the first video is loooonnnngggg—second one is brief.

The first word is officially “Mom.” She says it distinctly, purposefully, and she knows what it means: “Get your ass over here, Woman-who-brings-me-Fig-Newtons! Instantly!”

Usually it comes out just right. But sometimes—maybe a third of the time—she says it “Bob” instead. Yep, that’s me. Bob.

We just got back from Story Time at the library. Vibble was not really that into Story Time. She just has this look on her face the whole time like, “Clap? That’s dumb. Riding a horsey? This is not a horsey, it’s Bob’s leg.” It is a look I have seen many times on my husband’s face. The Steveling is not interested in your clapping or your pretend horsey riding. Instead, she wants to inspect your air conditioning floor-vents, remove all of the books from your bottom shelves, and then climb to the top of your staircase and survey her domain.

Here she is yesterday at the playground with David.